Burning
by LSMunch
Summary: I used to be like that. Back in Baltimore. When I walked a beat... God, I was fuckin' invincible. I had a gun and a nightstick and a flashlight that was as good as the nightstick, it was so solid. Anyone messed with me, I had handcuffs, and damnit, they w


Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Response to a challenge.

"John?" Her voice was stuffy with sleep and she stifled a yawn as she took a step closer.

"Go back to sleep."

"What are you doing up?" She seemed not to have heard him as she shuffled closer.

He never broke his gaze out the window. "Couldn't sleep. I'm fine, just go back to bed."

She stood next to him, one hand on the chair he had apparently taken from the kitchen. "It's freezing in here."

He didn't answer. Just continued to watch the streetlight down at the corner through the open window.

Wading through the sleepy feeling that threatened to overwhelm her, she said, more seriously, "John? Are you all right?"

"Fine." A car drove by below them, and his eyes followed it before returning to the streetlight.

"Sure?" She rubbed his back for a minute, then let her hand rest on his shoulder.

He didn't answer at first, the light captivating him in ways light never had. Then, it flickered and went out, breaking his trance with it.

"John?" she said again, beginning to get worried.

"I'm burning out," he said quietly. "Just burning down to nothing."

She didn't know what to say. He'd joked about it before. Being a cop for over thirty years, it was high time he sat down and said 'enough is enough', but she had always thought that he would only retire when the Department forced him to.

He didn't seem to notice that she hadn't responded, or was even standing next to him. "Burning down to nothing. There'll be nothing left of me. Just a little burnt wick sitting in a tiny puddle of wax." He fell silent then, watching as another car drove by, headlights casting light when there was none, filling every nook and cranny they could reach. "I used to be like that. Back in Baltimore. When I walked a beat... God, I was fuckin' invincible. I had a gun and a nightstick and a flashlight that was as good as the nightstick, it was so solid. Anyone messed with me, I had handcuffs, and damnit, they were goin' down. Lock 'em in the cage for the night and let 'em think about messin' with a cop again. Me and my partner... he was older, been walking the same beat for ten years by the time I came around. Lost his last partner to cancer. Age 47. Stories I heard about that man... made him seem like a God and a Devil in the same breath. Legend to hear him tell it. And I believed every word of it. So frickin' stupid... gullible... and young. God, I was 23 when I got that uniform. Toby, he kept telling me. Kept saying that I was gonna grow up one day, and realize I wasn't invincible. No one was. I never believed him. Then he died.

"I spent five more years walking a beat, then I became a detective. Did a stint in the Robbery division, then moved to Homicide. Even then, I had that light. Even with Toby gone, and two other partners behind me, I had that light. I was still so stupid. I was 33. And still so damn young... I was the newest rookie. I had to go through that whole ordeal over again. And boy, was Homicide the place to learn it. Catch a case, you get to stare at a dead body, join the good ole doc for the autopsy, everything. You got to question people, you got to slap cuffs and send them off to the state attorney. It was heaven on Earth, and I ate it up. Every last bit. I was married to Gwen by that point, and man was I living the life. She hadn't realized what it was like to be married to a cop yet. Not really. Geez, even at that age, we were kids. Then the inevitable came. Red ball cases. Days spent at the office. Police involved shootings, specifically cops I knew. Scared the crap outta her, and me, but I didn't care. I was still disillusioned by the fact that not only was I a cop, but I was a fuckin' murder police. I had the life. But she didn't like it enough to stay. And so began the seemingly endless parade of women in and out of my life. Three wives after that. Three. There are times I wonder if I ever set some sort of record.

"I got older, and finally realized I wasn't invincible. I was just a man in a uniform with a shiny piece of metal and a gun. I was nothing special. Just your average cop. I moved up here and it got worse. God, what the hell was I thinking coming up here? And joining SVU had to be the stupidest fuckin' thing I ever did. Thought it'd do me good, this change. All it's done is leave me burnt up, bitter and old. Jesus." He sagged a bit in his chair. When he spoke again, his voice sounded choked. "I gotta retire. I gotta retire and move. Some place in the country. No work, no dead people, no anything. Just me and my burnt up self. No light left in the old man. No more comforting cop trying to find a rapist or a murderer. Just John."

She realized he was crying. Kneeling down she took his face in her hands and turned him so he was looking at her. She took his glasses off and placed them on the window sill, looking at his eyes the whole time. Seeing the tears running down his cheeks, she pulled his shoulders until he was leaning against her, his head on her shoulder, tears absorbed by her shirt. "Okay, John," she whispered. "Okay."


End file.
